King
by Eastern Apple
Summary: (Reposting) As my guardian decided to rip the car apart looking for his non-existent granola bars, I sat on the car hood, pondering about ways to discreetly kill my relative. So far, I'm on idea number 36. (Rated M for language, no sexual themes Please read all warnings)
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so this is my second time posting this. I would love to clear up a few things because when I first posted this, I was so happy, so proud of myself for finally posting something that I enjoyed so much. Something that I wasn't afraid to show to my friends in real life, something I knew I could be good at.**

 **Then I got the nasty. Every writer gets one. I've had a couple myself, but they were minor nasties, minor flames that could easily be put out. But this one was a full in-depth flame, a raging forest fire. I'm not ashamed to admit that I didn't read the full flame, it just ruined me because I had been working on this for months and I loved this character. It ruined me because it was the first review. I was honestly thinking about quitting. And I tried so hard to.**

 **So many people have reviewed and Private messaged me saying so many good things, and I cried. I cried tears of joy because this is what this site should be about, people supporting other writers, not just saying 'this is stupid'**

 **So I am thankful for everyone who supports me and I am going to try one last time. And because people might get offended by this, I will like to put up some warnings:**

 **WARNING: I am a sixteen year old girl. I do not have a mindset of a male. I am white. This character is meant to be rude, annoying and arrogant. The way he views things is not nessisarily how I view things. There will be changes in how he views things. There is very coarse language. The cars decription is because of a character change early on. There will be changes later on in the plot. The humor is greatly exaggerated.**

 **The character background (as much as I can give)for all those who think I'm racist:**

 **Name: Julian.**

 **Age: 17**

 **Race: Latino American.**

 **Moved from: Spain-Canada-America**

 **If if any of the above may offend you in anyway, please do not review. If the story offends you, please do not review. Do not come back to this story. This is my way to improve my writing. If you not support this fact, then please stop here.**

 **I want to improve my writing. I need your help to do so.**

 **Please read all of the above before reading.**

 **(Have I covered everything? I believe so)**

 **Eastern Apple.**

 **this story if Un Betaed**

* * *

This place was creepy. There, I said it, happy now? But I know it wasn't _his_ fault. He's not to blame, he's an old senile man, running an old wooden bookshop/knick-knack shop in the middleof Mission City. (What Fuckin' Mission? To become a City?) This man could only pay one employee at a time and days are short. Stacking books were also a _bitch._

But he is my uncle, so I kinda have to be considerate to him. He did take me in when I was eleven and give me a place to stay. There's only one thing that creates a rift between us; Country Pride.

You see, I was born a Canadian. Uncle was born an American. This sorta makes me irritable, a Canadian in a country of trigger-happy Americans, it's like a horror movie.

 _ **Narrator:**_ _It was time…_

 _For Julian's story._

 _ **BIG WORDS:**_ _CANADIAN IN AMERICA!_

 _ **Narrator:**_ _A Land without free healthcare..._

 _Coming soon to Theaters._

Something like that.

But he's my new-found...second cousin-uncle or whatever. He had custody of me.

I'm sure you'all want some sob story about how a sorry S-O-B came in and killed my parents right in front of me and I went gung-ho and slashed his neck before shooting a bullet in his associate's face. Or about how they got killed in a car crash by a giant Semi or a lamborghini and I get revenge by slashing their tires? Or how about a police chase, where giant alien robots had a death match in a heavily populated area where millions of people have died? (Like this'll ever happen)

It was none of that. They left me.

Okay, now each one of you are likely saying 'Aww, you poor abused thing'. Screw you. They were pretty much the best middle class family there was, no abusing here. I have never once been slapped across the face, by anything. Ok, sure there was that one time in P.E softball, but that has nothing to do with my parents!

Ahem.

Both of them lost their jobs around the same time and they were worried they couldn't take care of me no-more, so they dumped me at my uncle's and went to join the military, even if they were about 38.

Thats pretty much my life story. So now I go to some high school in the middle of nowhere Johnsonville* because my uncle was freaking out and didn't want to send me to some public school(Again) that stunk or a private school that was pricey. So...he decided on one either me or him drive an _hour_ to get to.

Yeah, he is a bit nutty.

But I like him. Somewhat.

And his car. Mainly his car. Okay, _just_ his car.

And if you see his car, you'll be crapping your pants in how _sweet_ that ride is. Wooh. The thing is literally running on horse power, as it was a Mustang. The car is about 7 years old, but man, do I love it.

(Dad had a thing about Fords. It seems to run in the family).

It was painted a nice blue/white combo with bright red rims and accents. This thing demanded attention. And attention I give it. Because, hey, if I can't get it out of the garage, I'll make sure that there is no speck of dust on it!

(Plus, If I take good enough care of it, I'll probably get it!)

Back to my Uncle.

His name is Jarred, and is about 12 years older than my dad, so around 68 and should be retired….BUT, he lives in America and his 'company' doesn't have a pension plan, so he isn't retired.

Jarred is senile, I swear. He forgets everything and has about a bajillion pills that over half are out of date (I hide those from him) and most noticeably is my name. He calls me Jenna, Josephine, Jacquin, Jenesse, Janette, and most often, Dandi. No idea why that last one. Yeah, my name is Julian (Not King Julian from Madagascar).

He also forgets that I have to go to school…

So, here I am, an hour before school starts (It takes an hour and 30 minutes to get to school, on average) debating on wether to get a speeding ticket with the Mustang, or steal Uncle's other piece of shit that has to have a 'cannot go over 40' warning label. Either way, I'm screwed. Teachers here seriously suck balls.

"Jeannette!" There's the senile uncle that I know and hate. "You aren't going to school young man, this whole week." The slouching 6'2 man rounded the corner, faster than I thought a person with a walker could move. I had to jump because it was like some horror movie, or something.

"What?" I looked at him like he was mad, "Dude, I have a report to do!"

He only scoffed, "Then email it or whatever ya kids do these days." One trait that runs in the family, stubbornness. Plus all male children start with 'J', but that's some other creepy story that I don't really want to talk about at the moment.

(Hint, apparently there's this curse that dates back to when we were slaying Aztecs, I have no idea what it is, but then again, i don't really care)

"I dun't want ya leavin, cause something bad is gunna happen." Uncle got this crazed look in his eye. It was like he was high or something.

I had to ask, "Did you take your meds-"

"'Course I took my meds, what do ya think i am, a hooker?!" I gave him a flat look. I wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot pole if he decide to wear stilettos. He'd also look like a bad reenactment of the Grinch, with him being the villain. "And ya ain't going, I said so, now go watch some tv or somethin'...damn brats." He hobbled away from the garage, aka, my man cave, and back into his little room that literally contains everything a person needed to survive.

And since the said senile old man forgot that he ran a bookstore, I decided that today I will run it.

Yes, a delinquent can be responsible for once.

I threw my bag, loaded with projects that I knew I would get just a passing grade for, onto the dirty yellowed cloth couch that was older than I was.

As I settled for a long a boring day at the store, seeing only really avid book readers looking for something different or college students looking like they needed a certain textbook that they lost and/or accidently trashed. There was a total of six people in the span of 3 hours, only two lasting more than ten seconds.

It was turning to hour 4 when it happened. When something exploded from our garage, taking out almost the whole house, and oddly enough, leaving the Uncle-cave alone. That's a sight I would rather unsee.

I ran outside, ignoring the screams around the street to see who would try and blow up my car. Said car was racing out of the garage like it was on fire. And it kinda was, because, you know, explosion.

And before I knew it, the guy who stole it shot right past me. The guy didn't exist for that split second I looked at the driver's seat, yet there was a silhouette of a driver as I followed the car with my eyes through the back window.

"You better bring that car back asshat!" I yelled at him before a good dozen military jeeps with some fancy cars almost ran me over.

I stared wide-eyed before running to the other side of the street. Hacking into a car that I knew the owner abandoned, I kicked it into drive.

Luckily, Uncle had enough sense to grab pants and his wallet. He hobbled as fast as he could into the passenger's seat. The door wasn't even closed before I did a u-turn and booked it in the opposite direction of Mission City.

"Jeremy! What are ya doing-my books!" Uncle pressed his underweight body into the backseat to stare out the back window like one of sob children stories.

"Uncle, I honestly do not want to go anywhere near the military. If they find that I don't have an American citizenship, they'll shoot me on sight." That and they were chasing the stolen car that was not street-legal because it didn't have a valid license plate.

"Son, turn this car-" a building, by the sounds of it, seemed to collapse. "On secon' thought, push this thing to the metal." Uncle sounded scared and that was the only time I swear he was sober.

"Already on it. Why?" I wanted to turn around so badly, but all these people were slow ass drivers, and I need to keep my eyes on the road. We didn't have insurance.

"There are giant robots playing King Kong." Was all he replied before his lightweight was slumped in the seat, pressing against the back of mine.

I knew he fainted, I also knew that wasn't good for his health, but honestly, this has been a pretty crappy day for me, and it's not even one yet. Hopefully, we'll make this out alive.

* * *

You know when I said 'we'? Change of plans. There is no 'we' in 'we'll make this out alive', because I will personally kill this geezer. He honestly does not realize that we are on the run for our lives, running from alien metal-people.

And he wants to go to sonic and get a slushie!

Not happening. No way in hell.

But the car I had hijacked, (uncle still thinks its his car, a chevy does not look like a dodge), had ran out of gas, in the middle of an abandoned road. My luck today has turned for the worst. Neither of us had a cellphone.

Blame Uncle, too cheap to buy one. I would've even settled for an old flip phone, from like, 1982 or something.

My hair, which to defy social norms of the male populace, I kept long, had decided that today was a nice day to remind me that it was hairwashing day and went all greasy, almost dripping wet with oil from my scalp. Hey, everyone has this oil, mine just doesn't have that good of an on and off switch.

I was annoyed, to say the least imaginative word that comes to mind. It was baking out here and I had the wonderful idea to keep my image up and wear black leather. At least it is a coat. Bad thing is, I'm very self conscious about my body, the few acquaintances I have tell me I shouldn't. I like to call them acquaintances because friends are for people who think you are a good influence. I am not a good influence.

Somewhat. I have a job. Beat that.

Back to my Uncle, who was whining like a child for the hundredth time about these 'candy slushies' from sonic. I honestly don't give a crap because there is nothing of sustenance within get a hundred mile radius. Slushies were the last thing on my mind.

I was debating walking at least a good mile to find anything to drink, but that would leave Uncle alone. A very bad idea. Or to dig a six foot hole, throw said senile old man in and leave.

Option two is looking a lot better at the moment.

"Jorgia, I'm hungry, where are the granola bars I stashed in here?" As my guardian decided to rip the car apart looking for his non-existent granola bars, I sat on the car hood, pondering about ways to discreetly kill my relative.

So far, I'm on idea number 36.

"Ah, Julia, I found them!" Scratch that, we have food. I jump off the car hood and grab a box of food before the shitty geezer could hog them all. I look at the box.

It was granola bars. The shitty healthy kind. I looked at boxes Uncle had.

I had to take a second look. That bitch had the sugar-filled one and freaking everything that wasn't healthy. I didn't want a hyper old man on my hands.

"Okay, so, I have a phone that I just magically found, so I will walk that way," I pointed down the road in the way we came from. I made sure he was listening, "and you will stay here," it was like I was talking to a dumb three year old, "comprende?"

"Si." And with that, Uncle holes himself in the backseat of the crappy Cooper. I sigh, shrug off my leather jacket and walk.

I walked for a good mile and a half before finally getting a tiny bar of service on the almost dead (stolen) phone. I dial 911 and waited for it to ring. What the police don't know won't hurt them.

Surprisingly, it took a few calls to get through.

" _911, what's your emergency?"_

"Yeah, uh, you know the mission city incident? See, my uncle and I were fleeing and our car ran out of gas." I couldn't help but smile sheepishly.

" _Well, sir, I'm afraid that you will have to wait."_

That made me blink, smile falling from my face faster than the meteor killing the dinosaurs. "What?"

" _Sir, we don't have a resources to send a tow truck to get you. Do you have any relatives or friends to call?"_

 _What an asshole,_ I thought. Instead, being a Canadian, said, "Oh, yeah. Sorry. Forgot to call them." _Oh god I don't have any friends!_ "Bye." _Shit! The fuck am I supposed to do now!?_

 _Click._

I stared at my phone before debating on throwing it on the ground. I decided not to. And for some reason, the police seemed to want nothing to do with Mission City.

I have no relatives here, since they all live in Spain. No friends because to parents I am a bad influence.

Seriously, people, I look like I should be selling drugs on a street corner.

A blue and white car flew by me at insane speeds, before screeching to a halt meters away. The sound made me look and I saw it.

 _The car_.

The asshole who stole it, who I am 100% sure does not exist, decided to return the car. Cool.

The car reversed and the tinted windows, which were not as tinted as before, so the asshole changed the windows, rolled the passengers down.

There was nobody in the car.

It seems I was staring for a minute. " **Are you going to get in or what?** " I looked at the radio, where the voice seemed to be coming from.

"...are you Metal Giant?" I had to ask. I really had to.

The car was visibly shaking. " **Bitch, no. No no no….** " The car was laughing with his deep mechanical voice. Well, not that deep, it sounded mechanical, but like Tom Hiddleston deep. " **No, I am a sentient car. And giant robot that changes into a car.** "

I opened my mouth, " **I am not Japanese, nor am I a Gundam fighter.** **Just get into the fucking car.** "

So I did what the car told me and got into the car. The door closed behind me. " **now, where's Jarrett?** "

I looked at the radio, "Half a mile that's way. He's the one hyped up on sugar-coated candies." The mustang did as it was told and continued to drive on.

The radio blared to life again, " **Question, why are you not freaking out?** " It seemed as confused as a racehorse going right.

I tilted my head my gazed out the window, "Dunno. Weird things don't usually faze me." Oh how wrong I was going to be.

A month later I was freaking out about how they were aliens and they were freaking out because they thought I knew. It was just a giant freak out day that only ended when someone shot me with a tranquilizer. Not a very fun day.


	2. Chapter 2

**OH, my god...**

 **I didn't think I would have any motivation to do anything due to finals, flames, and taking a break(Which I did for about a week, not the month I was hoping for) and stuff like that, but I managed to do something that I'm slightly proud of. Majorly. Extremely proud of.**

 **It also helps that everyone is great at keeping my spirits up.**

 **The story is going to look like a bunch of short one-shots put together, mainly because I have something great planned after Chicago, and I need to rush through it, because I don't want that elevator door to close before I can get in it!**

 **There is a point in here where I am not proud of, you see the (**). In the first chapter there was a (*) after Johnsonville, that is because I made the place up, so I don't know if it exists or not. Originally it was Tranquility, but that wouldn't make sense as Mission City was on the other side of the country(Because Hoover Dam is in Ohio, right) and that would make no sense.**

 **Now, kudos to anyone who guesses the canon G1 character!**

 **Thanks:**

 **Eastern Apple**

* * *

" **Alright, out you two get.** " The car opened both of his doors. It took some convincing of Uncle to _get the fuck out of the talking car-no I don't care-we are not at Sonic stop going on about those slushi-_ but I finally managed to do it.

Behind me, the pony moved back a couple feet and a couple more - _Holy fuck, thats a semi truck-_ moved in front of us. A boy and a girl, the fuck? A hot girl. Eh...oh shit thats a military dude. Two Military dudes. I'm screwed.

"Julie, Julie, Julie. Is it those King Kong Metal dudes again? Who's the princess this time?" And trust my Uncle to mess up first impressions. It took all that I had not to slam my hand against my face. And even so, my hand had to be diverted into my hair, slicked with sweat and oils that should not be healthy.

A loud noise that I couldn't identify was behind and I looked behind me. Pony was a person. A giant, metal person with blue lights.

Uncle was shocked, choking on his tongue. More of the unidentifiable sounds came from the other cars and I saw them all transform from cars into giant metal people, the largest the Semi.

The Boy and the girl didn't seem too fazed, neither did the two military guys, who still has loaded guns by the way.

The semi dude, when the finishing touches were being made, bent down to our level. "Greetings, I am Optimus Prime."

Uncle threw me into Pony's leg with much more force than I thought a 100 pound frail man could.

The metal hands that caught be were gentle and lightly clasped around me before opening back up and rebalancing me.

"King o' King Kong Donkey Kongs! I shan't allow thee to climb any more buildings!" Uncle exclaimed and this time my hand meet my face with a loud slap.

"God dammit." I muttered as all the metal people, and the humans, looked like he should be in a mental hospital. Pony snickered, In A mechanical sort of way.

"Ignore him. That's Jarrett, my uncle. He's always like that." Optimus Prime looked towards me, and suddenly I didn't want to talk anymore. The hand that still hasn't moved reassured me slightly. "My name is Julian, Julian Alfaro. Nice to meet you all."

And this is either the part where he introduced the rest of the party or I have to learn their names on the fly because of my uncle interrupting a robot that can squish you beneath their feet. Not a good decision, for my sociopathic tendencies anyway.

"You as well," well he's a polite pile of parts, "this is my second in command, Jazz,"

"'Sup mah man?" The silver small boy flashes peace sign before hopping on a abandoned car in this junkyard.

"My medical officer Ratchet," the eye-sore seemed to be looking, more like glaring, at my uncle, as if trying to see his malfunction. He didn't say anything, "my weapons specialist Ironhide,"

The cannons on this black boys arms loaded and spun, "feeling lucky punk?" Optimus seemed ready to scold the metal man before Uncle leapt once again with a discarded car exhaust pipe with a roar and tried to hit the weapons specialist.

Immediately, the army men try to subdue him but Horse grabbed him by the back of his wife-beater shirt before he could even come close to the robot.

Ratchet seemed to become even more frustrated by my Uncle.

Optimus wanted to say something again, about my uncle, "ignore him."

He gave a few seconds to think it over before complying, next is our scout, Bumblebee."

" _Greetings from Starship Enterprise."_ With a flourish salute the black and yellow robot chirped.

"And finally, your guardian Tracks." He gestured to the metal man behind me.

I looked at him, he meet my eyes before I said something, "Well, better than What I've calling you." He glared at me, knowing exactly what I've been calling him. Had been since the first day I saw him.

"And our human allies, Sam Witwicky, Mikaela Burns, William Lennox and Robert Epps." Both teens from my class, nodded and Mikaela even waved. Mr. Lennox gave a curt nod too, not relaxed at all.

"Just call me Epps." The black man smiled.

"Julian." I nodded back before turning to Optimus. "What's next in this explanation, because Mission City seemed to have seemed to be a mission in itself."

What I heard next was your standard 'Good Guys vs Bad Guys' speech. Only with robots. Well, mechs. Apparently that is what they are called and some other nonsense that didn't make sense.

"Does your 'Uncle' have a malfunction?" Ratchet blurted sometime in the middle of the speech, earning a glare from Ironhide that the vibrate yellow mech returned ten-fold. He turned his gaze to me, but it was more of a scolding look.

I shrugged, "Not that I know of. Wouldn't be surprised if he did."

Ratchet nodded, but did not seem satisfied. But that was a welcoming break from the monotone, though trying not to be, speech that seemed to be done many a time before.

"Well, now that, that's done," Mr. Lennox clapped his hands together like some pink toad like Harry Potter, "I need to get you to debriefing," He stared pointedly at us

I held up my hands, "I'm good. Keep my lips shut, scouts honour." Mr. Lennox gave a stare, but it wasn't one of those 'Oh, you're lesser, no green-card person'.

"You're from Mexico, aren't you?"

Fuck it with all these- "Wrong side of the country. Try more North." He looked at my uncle, "He's American. Hockey Nights are horrible" -I do not have that type of nose.

"I do not understand," And I forgot about the semi-truck mech, oops, "What does 'Mexico' have to do with this?"

Sam spoke, "Ah, Optimus, see," It hurts to even look at him, someone help this poor boy, "There's a bunch of countries and see, ah…"

"To live permanently in each country you need a citizenship," I decided to help poor Sammy out, and he gave me a relieved look, "which I do not have. Because someone," I gave a pointed glare to my uncle, still being held in Tracks' hand-servo thingy, what is with all these weird terms- "forgot to register one." It's been six years…

"Your parents are suppose to do that-"

"They are in Qatar, last time I checked. Didn't have time. Only turned Guardianship over to my uncle over here." At the mention of the base, all four of the people gained sorrowful looks, "What?"

"Qatar is gone."

(**)

* * *

"30 bucks Sam yells at me." I spoke to Tracks, as we were talking an 'alternate route', and overstepping the speed limit by a good 200 kilometers. I had kicked up my socked feet on the passenger's dashboard, because someone was a vain mech and hated dirt in all its forms.

After the whole fiasco, we all had to taken in so we could sign some papers. Turns out one of those granted me dual citizenship. The rest were 'keep your mouths shut' papers and a whole bunch of other shit that I really didn't give a shit about.

I did read everything, to its very single detail and how its big words twisted obvious meanings into something completely different. I did win a spelling bee when I was seven, and dictionaries were my favorite reading material.

At least, the books I did read were close to dictionaries, so many hours of looking up definitions in dictionaries would, in my books, classify them as dictionaries.

So, just to make sure, I put the time on each one. Treason can't be used against you if you signed the citizenship paper last, a whole 6 hours later.

It's a loophole I ran by Tracks to make sure it was legit. It wasn't. Bummer.

So a whole month later, I was finally getting back into school, with a whole new wardrobe, car and house. I also didn't email that report in. I was going to have so much homework. Good thing I was no longer in said school. Governments will work hilariously fast when they want you to keep your mouth shut.

" **I get a carwash, turtle wax and everything, if they don't.** " Tracks answered, engine revving and going another ten kilometers faster since my frail, squishy body was handling the speed. Tracks, I learned, seemed to only really tolerate me to a degree that was about twenty percent higher than anyone else. I think it was because before I knew he was alive, I gave him a good washing once a week.

Sadly, he's not my 'car'. Yet. The paperwork is still pending.

"Deal." The deal was no big loss for me. Neither was the loss of my parents because they weren't on the casualty list for Qatar because they were transferred a year before a 'classified attack'. Hint: Try Decepticons.

Slowing down slowly, Tracks got closer to Tranquility and I moved into the driver's seat, just to make sure there was no cop-stopping. Wouldn't want that on my first day of Grade 12. Twelfth grade, whatever. Same thing.

"Wanna bet on their reactions?" I asked, grabbing my shoes from the passengers mat, one of the only places where my dirt-phobic mech would allow my shoes.

" **I thought we already had a bet.** "

"That's if Sam yells at me, this is if Sam is going to freak out or something." I explained, as if I was talking to a kid, as I slipped on my shoes. "A lot more specific."

" **Is this only pertaining to Sam? Because I have already told Bumblebee to pick out a parking spot with nobody next to him, and he assured me that both of his squishies hang out for a while before school starts.** " See, twenty percent higher up the ladder.

"Let's add Mikaela into it too."

" **Five bucks they gape like a fish.** "

"I'll take that." And just like that, we were making progress.

Now, best not to mention the bet with Bee about the ownership paperwork until I film his reaction. I need that 100 dollars, someone had to pay for insurance…

But alas, we were pulling up to the parking lot, and about a hundred heads turned. Including Sam and Mikaela. Pulling up next to Bumblebee, Tracks and I made a good show.

The guy with the Jeep and all the groupies he had looked pissed. So I got out. They looked even more pissed off.

Then Sam freaked out.

"What are you doing here!?" Sam managed to keep his voice high, but low at the same time. It's really a talent a boy who entered puberty three years ago could do that.

I looked at him, "I transferred." Duh.

He waved his hands around spazzing, "No, no, what the hell happened to-to you?!"

I looked down at myself. I looked like I just stepped out of a magazine for male clothes. I was only wearing a red and white plaid shirt that had the first three buttons unbuttoned. Light blue jeans that had rips on them from wear and not style were really the only thing that put the whole 'Canadian boy' vibe away.

I raised my eyebrow as I looked back at Sam. "I changed..?"

Sam failed his hands around, "No, your hair!" Oh right, hair. Forgot about that one.

Just to bug Sam, I rang my hand through my hair, now shaved on both sides with a bunch of gel styling it to give it a 'beachy' look. "I decided it was time for a change."

Bullshit, it took Tracks six hours to convince me to cut my hair, and another two to tell me to ditch the leather jackets and skulls.

I was not a happy camper and refused to remove my piercings, no matter how much he threatened with decapitation by plasma cannon and Ratchet-by-lecture. I got them because I looked hot in them.

Girls say otherwise.

Sam didn't seem to like that explanation. "Anyways," I had to keep my hand from flipping my hair back like I used to, "I have to go and get signed in, so see you later." I walk a few paces before turning back, "Don't touch the car."

Satisfied that I embarrassed both Tracks and Sam, I could say that today was going to be a wonderful day.

But honestly, teachers are not pleased to see that I was in their class. Already got the ' _This guy sells drugs, why did we allow him in our school again?'_ look to them. They also likely think That I'm some snobby rich kid with money and power, and anger issues.

It takes a lot to piss me off.

Trust me, because there is nothing else you can do.

"Julian Al-Alfaro?" I looked up to the teacher and raised my hand and said 'here', like good kids do on the first day of school. Because I have turned over a new stone. A stone that took seven years to flip, but I did.

* * *

So, Battle of Egypt. Sun Harvester battle. Not much to say there but, _I WASN'T FUCKING THERE STOP ASKING ME QUESTIONS GOD DAMN IT! Yes, I know Sam, no, that does not-are you even listening?-LEAVE ME ALONE ALREADY!_

Also, say hello to my cousin Raoul. I take care of him now. He's so cute of for a six year old, loves Tracks to death.

Tracks won't admit it, the pony loves him too.

Can anyone get him to stop calling me King? I am not a Lemur.

* * *

Today was a sober day for me.

I looked up at the rocket that the Autobots were leaving in, walking slowly towards it, hand holding my cousin's eight year old hand. Raoul was trying so hard not to shake or show any outside distress on this day. I was proud, yet scared for him.

I spotted Tracks on one of the support struts. He soon spotted me too and jumped down, walking towards us with strides slightly longer than his usual stroll. I noticed the Helicopter from CNN going around, likely telling some bullshit story.

"Hey." I waved with my one free hand. The other was being gripped tighter by Raoul. Tracks knelt down, arm over his knee.

"Hey to yourself, King," Tracks countered, before turning to Raoul, "Hey kid." The eight year old sniffed, wiped his nose on his sleeve and nodded.

"Hi Tracks." The kid's voice was high, showing how much he was holding back. He squeezed my hand tighter.

"So this is it." I sighed, slipping my hand out of its embrace, putting it on my cousin's far shoulder and pulling him closer. I absently rubbed it.

Tracks nodded, "So it would seem, King." He looked ansty, as if something was eating at his wires. Something might as well be eating at my insides because I've only had to do this once before, when the liaison ordered all the Autobots back to their base. That was one time too many.

Tracks did try and visit as much as he could, bringing stories and goodies for us, Raoul more than me.

And I'll have to do it again. This time with a hundred witnesses.

"Are you really leaving forever, Tracks?" Raoul asked, eyes hopeful, yet reserved.

Tracks leant down to him, putting a finger on Raoul's head lightly, "Kid, when this blows over, I'll be back as so as I can. Doesn't matter if it's when you're old and wrinkly, twenty or eighty I'd do anything to see you again, alright kid?"

I stepped in, "And what if this doesn't blow over Pony? What then?" I dreaded the answer before the question even left my mouth.

Tracks only smiled, "Then I'll send you a selfie of me every day, showcasing my finish."

Raoul giggled, "But you don't have Wifi!" I smiled simply because of how Raoul was happy for a second.

Tracks pointed to his head, "Uh, big walking supercomputer, AT&T can't compare. It'll get to you, guarantee or double your money back." He flashed a grin to the kid before messing up his growing hair. "Boss bot wants me back before the humans get antsy."

My face shifted into a scowl, it was all because of the humans, the up-tops, and some douche-bag named Sentinel. He even killed Ironhide, that rat bastard. He was the only trigger-happy being I liked. Likely broke Will's bro-heart, because Ironhide was a brother in arms to the main-dude, from what I understand.

"You better be back asshat." I told him, "I better see you before I die." Tracks nodded and got up, flashing a thumbs up.

"Count on it!" Tracks turned away and started to walk back, steps smaller, like he didn't want to leave. I would want him to either.

"And update your alt-mode!"

"I thought you liked it!"

"You have bad mileage, Pony!"

"Oh, Frag you!"

These last words were said with a happy tone, a stark contrast from what the atmosphere was. Raoul sniffed and I pulled him tighter to me. "Let's go behind the safe-line, alright?" I murmur in his ear as I look at Sam having a heart-felt goodbye. Raoul nodded and leaned into me, getting my shirt wet with tears he tried so hard to hold back.

There was something off about Sam, he kept holding his wrist, and that appendage was jerking wildly all over the place. I didn't matter though. I'm sure it was nothing.

Raoul and I step behind the safeline, getting ready for the spaceship to launch. Raoul was sobbing quietly into my shirt, watching Tracks disappear into the spaceship.

After another twenty minutes, the ship was finally launching, and we kept our eyes on it. As it was close to out of sight I looked at Raoul, tears flowing free from his eyes.

I knelt down and gave him a hug. That's when something blew up. I snapped my eyes to the sky, and I gaped.

 _No…_

" _ **TRACKS!**_ " Raoul screamed and even started to openly sob against my shirt.

 _No…_

The Military went into motion, but I couldn't take my eyes off of the explosion.

 _No…_

 _No, no_

 _Nonononononononono…_

I lifted Raoul and held him cry into my neck, and faced him away from the wreckage. I couldn't mourn, no matter how much I wanted to. I had to stay strong for Raoul.

"Jul?" Raoul whimpered as I walked away to our car.

"Yeah, bud?" I whispered back.

"Why are you crying, guys don't cry," He told me. "That's what the kids at school say."

I rubbed his back, "It takes a real man to admit he's crying. And you know when he's hurting if he's crying." It was sad to have him point that out to me. That the kids at school have to say these things. Raoul started to cry once again. "Its alright to cry Raoul, it's alright."

"He lied," The eight year old whispered, "He lied Jul, he lied."

"He didn't lie kid, he didn't." It made my heart break. He was never going to be a happy kid after this. "He would never lie to us kid, never."

I placed him in his car seat of the beat-up Subaru, I grabbed his shoulders, "He held you in his highest regard, the top of his list." I had to smile, "He was the shitty uncle that nobody would allow to babysit you at family gatherings." Raoul grinned, it was small, but a start. A very good start.

I finished buckling him in. And closed the door. I opened the drivers and got ready to leave back to Denver, where I had moved to take care of this little guy after his parents and older brother died in a car crash.

Apparently I was the only one not 'Mentally Insane' in the family to take care of him.

"Ready kid?" I asked, looking back at him, watching him grab onto the blanket for the travel. He nodded.

I looked back on the road and left, racing away before anyone could figure out the commotion.

* * *

"Prime, he's eight." Tracks tried one last time to appeal to Optimus, "Sure, Sam I can see, same with King, but Raoul, the kid is eight."

This was the thirteenth time he tried to ask Optimus to let him give Raoul the secret. Each time he was turned down. He knew that it was hard for Optimus, to keep this a secret from NEST, from all the charges, but this was an eight year old kid.

"No Tracks, we cannot allow the decepticons to hear anything about our plans." Optimus looked down at the crestfallen Ford, "Sorry Tracks."

Tracks only huffed and stalked away to a pillar, where he visibly brightened and jumped down. Optimus followed soon after, just in time to see Tracks meet with Julian and a boy half of Julian's height.

Tracks wasn't holding anything that happened mere moments ago ruin these interactions with his charges. It almost made Optimus feel guilty, as he did not realize that being 'eight' meant barely into youngling hood.

But Optimus had to stand firm with his decision. This would traumatize the youngling, but not for long, he would grow out of it.

He felt he deserved it when Tracks punched him when the pod that was supposed to house them exploded. Already he could hear that pained screech.

But it was for the better.

* * *

 **Also, does anyone realize how annoying it is for Auto-correct to change all my words, that are spelt right in my country, to the way they are spelt in the US? I'm looking at you, Colour and Traumatise.**


	3. Chapter 3

\- Update Feb 2 2018 -

Hello everyone! Sorry for abandoning you all for a few years! I don't have good news in that I'm going to be updating this story, however I would like to explain to you all for my unexplained absence as quickly as possible. If you would like a somewhat more in depth explanation on to my whereabouts, my profile has more info. The shortest story I'm going to tell you is that I've moved sites, as this one's layout started to get more and more confusing to work with and the stories becoming more and more lackluster.

Good news though! I'm writing again, and perhaps this story will be one of rewritten ones on the new site! If you would like, I would love to see you on AO3, with my new username being DocHolliday! Just send me a PM there and we can chat! If not, then perhaps this is farewell, and I hope that your life becomes one of fulfillment and you win the lottery!

Thats all! Ja Ne!


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